


To catch a Spy

by AstridDuck



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Death (implied respawn), Dubious Consent, F/M, Mild Knifeplay, No Gore, Oral Sex, Poison injection, Restrained Spy, Shameless Smut, Syringe/Needle, Teasing, Tenth Class (Team Fortress 2), Unsafe lab practices!, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstridDuck/pseuds/AstridDuck
Summary: You are the Herbalist of the RED team. One night, you head to the common library and find someone that shouldn't be there. You really don't feel like working overtime, so you try to get the best out of that situation...(Please notice that the NSFW part will be in chapter 2)
Relationships: BLU Spy/Female reader, BLU Spy/You, Spy/Reader
Kudos: 86





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So... this is the first time I publish a fic. My first time ever! I am honestly frightened of publishing stuff & it took me a lot to find the resolution to try, so please be gentle. I hope I got the warnings right and didn't forget anything. Also, there might be some errors because English is not my first language.  
> This is meant to be self-indulgent. I hope you will self-indulge as much as I did, and enjoy.
> 
> (See the end of chapter for translations. Oui!)

- _T'es une vraie nuisance, toi, n'est-ce pas?_ \- he sighed in resignation while you proceeded tying him to the armchair.

-Me, a _nuisance_? You were the one sneaking in our library. What were you after? Secret books? Or have you lost your copy of Arsène Lupin?

-That's none of your business.

That business was actually more _yours_ than _his_ at the moment, considering that you were a mercenary from the RED team, and he was a BLU spy caught RED-handed late at night.

***

Anyone else in the base was already sleeping – or so it seemed, while you were studying in the private lab next to your room, trying to set an experiment with your plant extracts. Some nights, you thought, were perfect for distillation. Being a Herbalist was matter of inspiration, and what could feel more inspiring than a full moon? Maybe, after all, you really were a witch, as sometimes your comrades jokingly referred to you as. You might have even looked as one with the long, loose dark dress you were wearing – your favorite, so soft and comfortable.

Well, yes, and that night was particularly inspiring! At some point, though, you decided you needed more support from books that were not to be found in your own lab, but were surely available in the common library room (only for a matter of space, actually. Your collection of manuals was already making the shelves bend under their weight, and books were stuffed in any corner of your room). You thought to yourself – why not? Why not a change of environment? Enough of that tiny lab, you had been locked inside for hours, you needed fresh air for fresh thoughts. Tempted by something prohibited, you grabbed a couple of beakers, a syringe, a dropper, some flasks filled with colored substances, you put them on a tray, and headed to the library. You liked that room. It was spacious, had big windows, and was filled with knowledge.

The others had already begged you to stop experimenting there – especially since that time you had almost melted the table. Now one of its corners had a strange-looking shape, and was irredeemably stained. Sniper said it looked _alive_ and _ill_... But there was nothing to worry about. Not this time. Everything was going to be fine. You only meant to be there for a short time – just the time to consult a book, drop a couple of droplets here and there, see the reaction. Nothing too dangerous, nothing too sticky. After all, it was time to go to bed already. It was late. And no one would be in there to stop you, not at that time of night.

Or so you believed.

The door was open. Strange, you thought, and you suddenly became wary. You poked your nose in the room, and saw yourself there. What...?

At first, you froze in confusion. You thought the light of the moon filtering through the window panes had been playing you a joke. But as you watched more carefully, no, it hadn't. That was you, exactly you, bent over a drawer in the archive section, searching for who knows what. Same hair, same features, hell, even same-coloured clothes! How was it even possible? Simple as that: it wasn't. There must have been another explanation. Something clicked inside your head: the BLU Spy. It was either him, or you were vividly hallucinating after inhaling vapours from your latest experiment.

What was he after? Did he really think the files of interest were there, in the official archive section, and had not been hidden away? Or did he maybe know that the best way to hide something is not hiding it at all? And why did he disguise as you? Maybe your double from the BLU team was unlikely to be found into the common library. She must have had a larger bookshelf, how unfair... Or could it be your double from the BLU team? But why, and how had she managed to get there...?

Anyway, that was just your mind running in circles. The actual, only important thing was that whoever was there hadn't noticed you taking a glance into the room and backing away immediately after, finding refuge in the shadow of the hallway. You knew how to walk silently, and they were quite focused: an idea crept up in your mind. You set the tray on the ground, slipped off your shoes, opened a flask, grabbed the syringe. Oh, if that was really the BLU Spy, he was _so_ going to regret his distraction. You would have definitely liked to get your revenge for all those times he had stabbed you in the back on the battlefield.

So, that is how you had managed to capture him. Silently sneaking from behind, you injected him with that gorgeous, amber-coloured creation of yours. Backstabbers should know that, sometimes, what goes around comes around.

As he fell on the floor in disbelief – suddenly unable to move properly and not quite understanding what was happening – he revealed his true appearance. He definitely was the BLU Spy. You rolled him on his back with your foot and looked him in the eyes as you spoke:

-Well, hello sir. You chose the wrong disguise this time.

-Oh, _putain_ \- he swore, hissing through his teeth.

-I must warn you. The thing I've just injected you with interferes in nasty ways with any other kind of poison. If I were you, I wouldn't want to try your cyanide tricks now – I don't guarantee you'd get to respawn anytime soon. Don't make things worse for yourself. Now be patient and wait for me while I turn on the light and go take a couple of things.

***

As soon as you were done with your rope, you stepped back and enjoyed the view. The enemy Spy sat there restrained, a look of utter disappointment on his face. He wouln't be able to move for a while now, not even if he had wanted to.

-What did you inject me with, if I dare ask?

-Now, _that_ is none of your business- you replied in a satisfied smirk.

-I believe that's actually more _mine_ than yours, at the moment- he insisted. -Since I'd like to know what is going to happen to me.

How cheeky. You huffed, but you were actually looking forward to depict the marvels of your gorgeous creation. -Hate to be found lacking, don't you? Well, fair enough. It's a poison, but not just any of those synthetic garbage you can buy anywhere nowadays. This is a hand-made distillate. My own recipe, and I'm quite proud of it. I daresay, my speciality.

-Get to the point, _chérie_. What does it do?

-As you might have noticed, _monsieur_ \- you explained in a mocking smirk, -it makes your limbs absolutely numb. Only your limbs, so you can't walk or move or be a - how do you French call that? - a _nuisance_. Also, you might feel a bit dizzy. That's perfectly normal, so I wouldn't worry too much about it. In 4 hours' time, the effect will eventually wear off. I hope you don't have any plans for the night, or else you're going to have to postpone them. What a pity.

A moment of silence fell in the room. For once, he seemed not to know what to say. Ignoring him, you stepped out of the room and grabbed your tray, which you had left near the door. You came back in and locked the door behind you, then you placed your instruments on the table. You picked up his jacket from the floor – the jacket you had removed before, to inspect him – and looked for something, among the pieces of paper, the cigarettes and the small instruments that you had thrown on the carpet. Finally, you found his infamous balisong.

-So... are you planning to kill me anytime soon?

You didn't even look at him. Despite the fact that it had killed you so many times, you were amazed at the instrument you were holding in your hand: such an elegant weapon. It suited him perfectly.

When your mind processed his words, you turned to him and stepped closer.

-What _my_ plans for the next 4 hours are, _monsieur_ \- you whispered, leaning on the chair to caress his Adam's apple with the blade, -Are none of your business. Unless you were trying to ask me out, of course.

As soon as you stopped gliding the blade up his neck, you looked straight into his eyes. His gaze was firm, but undeniably helpless. It was trying -and failing- to hide something. He feared the uncertainty, and didn't know what to expect. How amusing, considering you didn't know either - it wasn't like you had a plan. You had taken a good chance, and now you were just trying to have some fun with it.

Fun... that word forming into your mind stirred something within your subconscious. You certainly weren't the kind of person who liked torturing prioners – no, that was not your kinda fun. You found it rather unfair, and unprofessional. And disgustingly messy. Also, what would have been the point? Making him suffer terrible pains, staining the carpet with blood, just for the sake of revenge? No... there was no actual pleasure in that scenario. And you wanted your vengeance to be pleasant. Make very good use of him.

Having Spy completely at your mercy was... getting the adrenaline flowing. That sensation of power over him tickled your imagination in wicked ways...

-Again, I have to disagree- he tried, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. But he was promptly made to shut up, as his own knife's blade slipped under the hem of his balaclava. He froze, holding his breath.

-Stay still. I want to see what your face looks like.

Slowly, carefully, the knife worked its way under the fabric and tore a large, vertical cut. He did not even flinch, petrified as he was. When you were done, though, not a single scratch was to be seen upon his skin.

Your hands carefully pulled the torn fabric away, and carelessely threw it aside. His face was now fully revealed, his features tough and manly. For the first time ever, you were able to observe the bare skin on his cheekbones, on his nose, the light stubble adorning his chin and cheeks. Faint lines appeared here and there on his forehead, near the corners of his eyes, between his eyebrows. In that last spot, wrinkles became deeper when he frowned like an angry child, and looked away. His salt-and-pepper hair was long enough to become slightly wavy, and immediately regained its natural volume as you ran your fingers through it. It was thick and incredibly soft.

-You can now see my hair. What a discovery- he remarked. He was clearly annoyed.

-Why wear that thing, after all? You spend so much time taking care of your hair, and then you have to hide it. By the way, what products do you use? I'm impressed, it feels like silk- you commented, stroking his head in awe.

-Did you actually poison me and tie me here to make small talk about my conditioner?- he remarked, nervously.

-Oh, so you do use it?

-What... no! No, that was not the point, you...

He didn't finish the sentence, but groaned instead. Why did he even bother to listen to you?

-Why are you so tense? Relax. Are you not used at feeling this vulnerable?

-Tch. For your information, I have endured the most excruciating tortures without batting a single eye.

-I see. So you cannot stand _not_ being tortured?

He didn't waste any time replying this time, his gaze away from yours. You really were having a good time. Suddenly, you became aware of what your vague excitement meant. And realized, you might actually have a good plan for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _T'es une vraie nuisance, toi, n'est-ce pas?_ " - "You really are annoying, aren't you?"  
> " _Putain_ " - Literally an offensive way to call a prostitute, but it's often used for generic swearing in French. You can even use it to express surprise.  
> " _Chérie_ " - "Dearest", used when addressing to a female.  
> " _Monsieur_ " - "Sir".
> 
> Sorry about the pun at the beginning, haha I know, plz don't mind me


	2. An Inspiring Night

You were standing next to the armchair, balisong still in your hand. You raised your other hand to touch his cheek, gently turning his face towards you. Your fingers tickled his chin slightly to ask him to look up.

- _Monsieur le Spy_ \- you said in a soft tone, slowly tracing his cheekbone with your thumb, - _vous_ _ê_ _tes très charmant, vous ne savez pas?_

His frown deepened.

-Are you going to make fun of me all night long?

You didn't reply at first. Instead, you moved to stand on the back of the armchair and leaned down to embrace him. The tip of the knife against his throat, your other palm pressing on his chest. Your cheek against his temple.

-I only said what I was thinking. I am happy to have you at my mercy.

You felt him hold his breath as your (his) knife moved downwards along his jugular. But it didn't poke anything painfully. Instead, it started cutting away the buttons from his shirt. His tie and vest were already lying on the floor.

-You're hurting my tailor- he mocked. You smirked, as your free hand started trailing up and down his chest, your fingers exploring his now bared skin, feeling the warm softness of his belly, the fuzzy surface of his chest, the tiny lumps of his nipples. Your head sunk down to place a light kiss on his neck once... your lips captured some of his skin, sucking lightly, not hard enough to leave a hickey. The scent of his cologne was stronger there. You inhaled deeply, enjoying to linger there for a moment.

You stood up and walked to the table, placing the kinfe upon it. Ignoring him for a moment, you opened the first buttons of your long chemise, and slipped its sleeves off. You left the other buttons tied so the dress could still cover you from your waist down. You were wearing no bra. You turned around, looking for a reaction. His expression was unreadable. His gaze indulged on your breasts, grazed by the silver moonshine and the room's warm artificial lightning. He sighed and couldn't suppress a resigned chuckle. You stepped closer to him and proceeded straddling his lap, while he tilted his head and parted his lips, looking for the right words to say. Then he finally spoke:

-I have to admit, I am fairly surprised.

-Why?- you questioned, placing your hands on his thighs and leaning forward. -Because you weren't expecting this to happen? Or because you weren't expecting to enjoy it?

He shut his mouth like he was trying to suppress a smile. So you spoke again:

-Look, I don't really like being anyone's butcher. It's not my style. It's half past midnight and this is way beyond my work schedule. At this time of night, all I want to do is relax and treat myself. And I bet you do, yourself. If you let me go on and don't try any smart trick, I promise I will kill you painlessly afterwards. You'll be sent to respawn without even noticing, and you'll be ready to go to sleep.

He chuckled again, raising an eyebrow.

-Why so friendly, all of a sudden? Don't the RED get paid for working ovetime?

-Well, if you'd rather, I can always call some of my more unfriendly colleagues. Like Medic, for instance. I bet he'll be delighted to...

-Fine, fine- he interrupted you. -I'm sick of playing cat and mouse. Do whatever you please.

-Now that's what I call being reasonable. So, we have a deal...

Your face got closer to his and stopped mere millimeters away. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin and had to stop himself from pulling you into a kiss. Of course, he couldn't be explicit about it with you, now could he? He still had a pride. But yes, he was enjoying it. That night was the sexiest thing that had happened to him in ages, and if you were going to treat yourself, well, why not have fun together. It was useless to cry over his failed mission, it was way too late now for saving anything.

Your hands slid up and down his torso, grazing his nipples with your knuckles. You leaned down and kissed his collarbone, emerging again to direct towards his mouth. Your lips ghosted over his for a while, but suddenly got away to place another kiss at the base of his jaw. His stubble poked at you slightly. He held his breath at that – you had find a good spot. You decided to work there some longer, sucking, testing with the tip of your tongue – he sighed and you felt him relax after a while, was he starting to let himself go?

You smiled and purred against his skin – receiving an almost inaudible, low whimper as a reward. Then you sat back and unbuckled his belt. Your fingertips traced up and down along his zipper and finally unbuttoned his trousers completely. You smashed your lips against his, finally getting a taste of him, and it was then that he couldn't contain himself anymore. His mouth tried to devour you, his tongue was keen to meet yours and, as soon as it happened, you felt droplets of moisture starting to stain your underwear. The internal sides of your lips tingled in pleasure. Despite his eagerness, his movements were smooth, sensual, he was a skilled lover and wanted to show off. The kiss lasted long enough to make both of you forget to breathe at some point. As soon as you broke it, you got away from his lap only to kneel on the floor, parting his knees and placing yourself inbetween his legs.

The light-coloured fabric emerging from his already undone trousers was a clear sign of his excitement. You placed a soft kiss on his abdomen and if you had looked up, you would have seen his face scramble in anticipation. His eyes were glued on you, hypnotized by your every movement. He felt your face approach his still clothed manhood, your cheek grazing it before your lips dared to touch it. A strong shiver climbed up his spine and his eyes close shut for a moment, as he savoured the pleasantly uncomfortable feeling of his increasing arousal. When you finally freed his erection from constriction, he was only little relieved as you showed no intention to approach him directly. You took your time in enjoying the view, resting your head in his lap, your nails lightly dancing around his groin. He twitched from time to time, and he was doing his best not to whine, but he was still very sensitive there despite the poison affecting his limbs, and your laziness was unnerving. At last, you finally took him in your hands and placed soft pecks here and there on his shaft. When the flat of your tongue stroke his full length, a soft groan bubbled in his throat and he didn't bother to stop it. You started working him up so perfectly, tasting him like he was candy cane. Your lips on him were delightful, the touch of your tongue was addictive, entering your warm mouth was pure ecstasy. You felt encouraged by the fact he had given up suppressing his soft, lovely moans and you didn't stop until he seemed to be about to lose control. You looked up just in time to notice him biting his lip – his eyes met yours once again, they were nervous and thirsty. You licked his tip one last time while keeping eye contact, and he exhaled in an attempt to relieve his burning desire.

You stood up and took a step backwards. Despite the increased wetness between your thighs, you didn't rush when you took off your underpants from beneath the dress, and guided them down your legs. Nor did you rush as you stepped out of them and straddled his lap again. Your hands slid up and down your chest, and started massaging your breasts. Oh, he would have loved to be the one touching them, feeling your hard buds tickle his palms. When he saw you lick your finger to more easily glide it on your nipple, he rolled his eyes and swore in French. Your core was twitching, it was time to take a step further. Your placed your forearms against the back of the armchair to help you balance, as you leaned forward to position yourself closer to him. You placed another peck upon his neck while the very tip of your breasts brushed his chest, the soft cloth of your chemise felt like a feather on his lenght. That light contact caused him to shiver hard, every little thing had become so unbearable.

-You...- he managed to whisper as he felt you fumble around to sit comfortably, -are making me unable to think rationally...

You didn't answer - there was nothing to answer. You only stopped for a moment and smiled at him. After that, you lifted yourself up just as much as you needed to be able to take him with your hand and guide him into you.

You lowered yourself on him, exhaling hard to relax as much as possible. He closed his eyes and groaned; when he opened them, he found you grasping the armrests, face lost in the pleasure of his flesh penetrating yours. You took some time to adjust to his size, but shortly after you were moving up and down, new tides of pleasure rising into your body at each movement. Your restrained counterpart was burning in his crave for the highest peak of pleasure, but soon it became clear that you were deliberately restraining yourself from gaining speed.

- _Oh, je te déteste..._ \- he mumbled in a low voice.  
Your ability to measure yourself was frustrating and tantalizing at the same time. How he _hated_ you for that – and how he loved your attitude, so uncontrollable, so shameless, so _wild_. Maybe you truly were a witch. You leaned forward so that your breasts were touching his skin, your nipples grazing his chest, and while your flesh caressed his nerves in a lazy rythm, he gradually felt his consciousness fade away. You both produced soft groans and small whimpers, trying not to get too vocal.

You started to breathe more deeply, feeling your own peak become closer. As soon as you felt it was about to hit you, your movements sped up in a totally unexpected way, and when you began to rush, lowering your fingers on your clit, the Spy couldn't take it anymore. He was finally able to reach his climax in a strangled groan, and released his seed into your depths, becoming a trembling mess for a short time. Seeing and feeling him melt under your touch sent you to the Moon, and an orgasm hit you, automatically releasing any tension that you had been building up inside – in your chest, in your arms, in your toes, in your belly. For a second, all you saw was darkness. Then, you collapsed on him, exhausted, resting your head on his shoulder, the heat of your bodies comforting both of you.

After a while, you raised your head and looked at him. His eyes were glistening in a sleepy way. You leaned in to kiss his lips and he welcomed you at once, your tongues sensually touching each other another time. Then, silence fell between the two of you.

At some point, though, you spoke:

-Any last wish, _monsieur_?

He thought about it for a few seconds before replying:

- _Donne-moi une cigarette._

***

You were sitting in his lap, this time totally naked - you had stripped of your dress when you had gone taking one of his cigarettes. Now you were resting against him, your chests pressed together, and your fingers lifted the cigarette from his lips from time to time, allowing him to exhale grey clouds of smoke. None of you spoke. There was nothing to say, you thought, or maybe it was too scandalous to say it, he believed – that it had been great, that he would have loved to do it again, sometimes. But he didn't dare telling you. He still had a pride.

As soon as he finished his cigarette, you took the butt, stood up and went to put it out on the ashtray that was on the library's table. You turned to him, he was staring at you. As you smiled, he shook his head, seemingly amused.

-I hate having to say that, but I am ready for respawn- he sighed.

-Sure. I don't want to keep you from your affairs any further. You'll be free in no time- you said, handling something on your tray.

You stopped for a moment and looked at the floor. You picked up your chemise and put it on again before grabbing from the table whatever lethal stuff you were handling. At his questioning look, you simply replied:  
-I only thought it was fair to be dressed for a funeral.

-Whatever...- he sighed in resignation again.

You stepped closer to him. There was something hiding in your hand, but he couldn't say what it was.

-Ready?

-Indeed.

-Close your eyes.

He left his eyelids close and he heard you speak again:

-Any last words?

-The next time we're on the battlefield, I will look at you with different eyes. Be very careful.

He felt your heat come closer to him, and your soft voice whispering in his ear:

- _Je n'ai pas peur de vous, monsieur._

With that last phrase still sounding so close, the void hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _Monsieur le Spy, vous êtes très charmant, vous ne savez pas?_ " - "Mr. Spy, you are very charming, don't you know?"  
> " _Je te déteste_ " - "I hate you"  
> " _Donne-moi une cigarette_ " - "Give me a cigarette"  
> " _Je n'ai pas peur de vous, monsieur_ " - "I'm not afraid of you, sir"


End file.
